


Closure

by CoralFlowerBad (CoralFlower)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Kankri's vow, M/M, Piratestuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 15:41:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5503367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoralFlower/pseuds/CoralFlowerBad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Doesn't the whole idea of a vow like that just say that your opinion of what makes you worth more than shit is worthless?" </p><p>Prime discourse involving Kankri's vow, occurring forty-seven days after he and Karkat do teh smex in SybLaTortue's Piratestuck AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SybLaTortue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SybLaTortue/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Pulled Down By Your Tide](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5497622) by [spockandawe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spockandawe/pseuds/spockandawe). 



> Because the art was freaking amazing, okay, like, hella shading and just beautiful joints (I love the way SybLaTortue draws joints maybe that's weird but I think it's just so aesthetically pleasing) esp. Kankri's knee
> 
> and the candles and the shadows on the wall of the doodads hanging from the ceiling and the shading on the rope in the foreground and the woOd grAIn of the bed is juuust sooooo gooooood
> 
> and Kankri's mouth is just. beautiful. gorgeous. amazing. ilove. and the wrinkles in Karkat's sleeve where Kankri's grabbing it are really nice too
> 
> i love all th detail sooo mcuh. Kankri's hair is rly nice.
> 
> Only thing I'd change is it'd be nice to see karkat's face but maybe that's just me being asexual and appreciating facial expressions way too much XD
> 
> (also the reflective-ness of the mirror and the porthole are really nice. i like.)

"Doesn't the whole idea of a vow like that just say that your opinion of what makes you worth more than shit is worthless?" 

You stop short, and have to bite your bottom lip to keep an expletive-- really, you shouldn't get into the habit of even _thinking_ those words-- from slipping between it and its upper partner, because no matter how awkwardly he phrased it, no matter how much better you could've constructed the point, he's right. You open your mouth and breathe in, prepared to make somewhat of a concession, but it appears he's taken this somewhat personally and is now annoyed. What an enourmous surprise (and even though it is interesting, at least a little, that he chose this particular topic to become incensed over, you aren't quite caught off guard enough to not be sarcastic about it in your head, because really, he gets steamed over just about everything the two of you speak of).

"You know your value's not, like, automatically or permanently or whatever linked to how much sex you've had or how much time it took you to have that much. Or when you started." Your brow furrows, because goddammit, he's right, he's angry but still completely coherent, and he hasn't cussed once so far, you guess he really cares about this? You didn't even know he was capable of this level of intelligent discourse, but honestly you need to stop underestimating how reasonable he can be when he actually tries, like the night forty-seven days ago, you weren't keeping count on purpose, really, you just didn't want to, to forget a single moment, it's not that he crosses your mind whether or not you're alone, both when he's not around and when he's two feet away from you like right now, regardless of how much you don't want to think about him, about his skin and his teeth and his smile and his fingers, his fingers and the way he held your hand like he knew how much you needed it, the way he pinched your grubscars and still watched your face and /listened/ to you and made sure he never crossed a single line, the way his eyes looked as he slowly wound you up inside and watched you, watched the feelings flicker across your face and didn't ever show any sign of thinking of you as anything but interesting, gorgeous, unique, it overwhelms you when you let it.

He continues talking, and you somewhat kind of sort of wonder if it'll dawn on him, the actual reason you took the vow.  
"You lost nothing last night, Kankri. You're still Kankri. You're still this annoying asshole that I've gotta keep on my ship because I'm too damn nice to ditch you somewhere, you still talk way too fucking much, and you still bother the plank-walking fuck out of me. None of that is gone. What you do with your own body doesn't change or choose anything about who you actually are." Scratch that part about him not cussing. 

"You're still Kankri. You still care about the problems you see in our world and want them to get the fuck out of your life because dammit it isn't fair you had to be born before society realised it was an ass, okay, it's not fair you even have to worry about this shit because nobody should have to, and it's _so_ fucking _piti_ \--" 

He cuts himself off, swallows, and continues, in a softer tone of voice, probably having realised he was yelling. "It's hard to watch your disbelief that anything could ever be not unfair anymore, the way you search for flaws in every single system you come across, because according to everything you know there's no way anything could not marginalise someone, but Kankri, everyone in this crew is my friend, we know each other, and if one of us tends to not speak up when something is wrong, there's another person who can tell when the first person isn't speaking up and confronts them about it. Maybe some of us have power over each other, but we care about each other too, and we don't want to see anyone else be hurt, and Kankri, that's the difference, that's what makes this system different from what you've seen everywhere in your whole life, because we actually give a shit about each other. None of us is replaceable. You can add parts all you want and we'll make it work, but you can't take any away, no matter how well we should be able to accomplish shit without somebody, because they're part of this crew, and they're important, no matter how small their job is and no matter how little power they officially have. Everyone matters, and we all care about each other. There's your big difference." His voice breaks on the last syllable, and you suddenly realise how soft his expression is, and how much you like his face looking like that. And also you realise how nice that sounds, to be important and cared about and loved no matter what path you decide to take... But something occurs to you, a problem with his logic, and you just have to go and say something, because it'll bother you if you don't, nevermind the fact that you just don't know how to react to *feelings*, nevermind the fact that you don't want to consider any possible feelings in you.

"That seems unnecessarily exclusive to me. And extraordinarily inefficie--"

"It's not though, because we started out with not as much as we have now and now we're bigger. And you're here, aren't you? And your earlier concerns about safety and how few people we have: well, we manage, don't we? And if it's with less than you think we need, that makes us efficienter than your standard. So there." You incline your head in a gesture of concession, and engage in a tactical retreat.

"Back to the original topic, then. I'm not sure you realise that the main reason I took my vow was to prove to myself that I could accomplish things without conforming to society's standards of what I should be--"

"And I was telling you that even though you've sort of conformed now that doesn't mean your accomplishments don't matter." The look on his face is vaguely triumphant, and maybe he deserves to look like that, because, well, he's right.

"...You're right." His eyebrows shoot up like the way his thigh pressed up between-- no, focus on the conversation-- his mouth falls open slightly, he looks like forty-seven days ago and the feelings that made your chest tighten up, looks like the dense, but breathable warmth that settled over you right after you finished and before you left, why did you even leave? "A-and I should have stayed. Forty-se-- that night." You kind of trip over yourself trying to seem like you haven't really thought that much about it. "I mean I wish I had, not that I had any obligation, explicit or implied, to s-stay, or that I felt I needed to apologise for any failure, perceived or otherwise, to fulfill society's set ideals for how a partner should act after acts of a similar level of intimacy--" The corners of his mouth quirk up and slowly form into a sort of halfway ish grin, and he reaches out to pull one of the loops in the bow on your left sleeve, gently grasping your arm and tugging carefully until it's the same size as the other, which effectively quiets your nervous ramblings.

"I would have, uhm... liked that, I think." You feel a muscle in your back relax that you don't even remember tensing, and you feel the tiny adjustments made by the muscles of your face that, you presume, are putting a cautiously pleased expression on your face right now. Well, going out on that limb seems to have worked out all right. You think that's enough risks for today. "You know that didn't have to be a one-time thing, right? If you want it, you can always have another chance to stay the night." Your cheeks flush, but you find yourself throwing caution to the wind (like the constant wind outside his cabin and all across the ship) and smiling at him despite the almost uncomfortable warmth of the redness just under your skin. His hand, which was still hovering near your elbow, moves upwards to trace your jawline and brush a thumb over your cheek, which flushes darker in response. Belatedly, you stammer out a reply.

"O-okay." His smile morphs into kind of a smirk, and his eyelids slip down so he's looking at you half-lidded. Your lip pulls sideways to mirror his smirk as you rock up onto the balls of your feet and reach up to grab a fistful of the front of his shirt, and you tilt your head just the tiniest bit in an invitation, _come and get me_ , and for a moment you think he plans to do just that. Then he lifts an eyebrow, _no, you come and get **me**_ , and you scowl and smoothly lean in

The door slams open against the wall and then Nepeta's standing in the doorway and your expression is probably embarrassingly needy, you're sure, and you're holding on to him and he's touching your face and she's _right there_ and the door is just wide open anyone could _see_ , and it's just vaguely amusing that she was the one who closed the door last time and now she's opening it and interrupting you. The sunlight makes his skin look this really nice shade of grey, and you honestly don't want to let go of his shirt, or stand flat-footed again, maybe time'll reverse and the door will shut and you'll be able to continue where you left off, because if you're honest with yourself, you really want to cuddle with him. But he's already pulled his hand back, and you can't help the disappointment you feel on your face or the rejection that's heavy in your stomach and bitter in your throat even though you know it was just coincidence but maybe he planned the room emptying last time and planned Nepeta coming in this time, or maybe you're being ridiculous and paranoid and should just let go of him and close yourself off so he doesn't notice how irrational you're being, avoid his gaze as you leave his room, wave to Nepeta on the way out like everything's fine (she'll probably be grinning huge), and just sulk in your cabin for the rest of the day. Instead you make eye contact one last time and let him see how much this is hurting you because maybe now he'll keep his promise of another chance whether or not he actually meant to originally, because you don't think he's mean enough to hurt someone if he has to see the effect of it, but you also don't think he cares about you quite enough to really follow up properly (god knows he didn't bother last time).

Now he breathes out a puff of air that you feel across your face, and unclasps your fingers from his shirt, but instead of just letting go of you he wraps both of his two hands around yours and leans over to kiss you on the cheek, and you have to glance away at the floor, but your grin is partially resurrected now. Then he releases your hand and gently presses down on your shoulders, and you bite the inside of your cheek and let your chin fall against your chest as you lower yourself down from tiptoe.

The sun hurts your eyes when you leave his room and you have to squint. Like you're trying to read something from really far away. Every moment you spend in his cabin is like a dream because it's dim in there and cool. You've certainly had dreams take place in there; you were just hoping for an actual reenactment this time. The salty breeze whips across your face and you taste the melancholy on your lips. The ruffles of your sleeves whip around your wrists, and you notice the bow on your left has come undone. You reach over, one-handed, to retie it, and hope later you can find something that smells like him.

**Author's Note:**

> welp. Thaaat turned out. Less uplifting than I intended.


End file.
